


Maybe It Can Work Out

by RobinPlaysTrumpet15



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, Dick is a worried big bro, Gen, Jason and Damian aren't really assholes, OOC characters, Self-Worth Issues, Suicide Attempt, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 13:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6155617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinPlaysTrumpet15/pseuds/RobinPlaysTrumpet15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim has always dealt with depression. Jason and Damian kinda treat him like shit. Dick just wants to help. Damian and Jason really do love Tim. But maybe it's too late...</p><p>Warning, there may be triggers in here. I'm personally not all that good at identifying them, sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe It Can Work Out

**Author's Note:**

> There may be triggers in here. Read at your own risk. Please, if you find anything I should tag, feel free to let me know. If you see grammar mistakes, also let me know about those so I may fix them. Let me know what you think, thanks!
> 
> Also, let me quickly apologize for anyone who may get offended because I have portrayed some or all of this incorrectly. Sorry, thanks.

"Tim, Alfred wants you downstairs for dinner." Dick said, knocking on the younger man's door. There was no response save for a yelp and a clatter of something heavy on the floor.

"Tim?" Dick called, his eyebrows pulling together. He grasped the doorknob, gently turning it and pushing open the hardwood.

There, in the middle of the room was Tim, sitting stock still. His arms were clutched to his chest, blood seeping into his favorite green sweater. A small handgun lay on the floor by Tim's foot where he must have dropped it.

One look at Tim's face had Dick panicking. The teen's crystalline blue eyes were rimmed in red, tear tracks tracing down his cheeks. The water dripped from his chin to fall to the floor.

"Tim...what's going on?" Dick stepped further into the room, leaving the door open behind him. He knew that Bruce would have to know about this - and soon - but for now, he would handle this.

"I...I just...Dick...I..." Tim stuttered.

"Whose is this?" Dick asked, crouching in front of his little brother and picking up the gun. He checked the safety, making sure it was on before subtly holding it away from Tim.

"J-Jason's..." Tim muttered. Dick tossed the weapon onto the bed where he knew Tim couldn't get to it without a fight.

"Timmy, what's going on?" Dick was reaching for Tim's arms now, wanting to see what the damage there was. Tim moved away from the older, pressing his arms harder into his chest.

"Let me see. I want to help you." Dick said, reaching out again.

"Why?"

"What?" Dick asked, shocked. "Why what?"

"What have I done to deserve your help? Why shouldn't I pick that gun back up and get rid of a mistake? Who would care? Do you really think anyone would even notice my absence for more than a day?!" Tim's voice rose steadily until he was nearly shouting at the older, blue-eyed man. Dick's eyes were growing wider with every passing second. If he was honest with himself, there were tears threatening the corners of his eyes.

"Tim, what are you-"

"Don't deny it! Damian's right! I'm useless, worthless, a waste if space, and definitely not worth the time anyone ever spends on me! What the hell have I ever done?! Jason's right too! I was just a replacement for him!"Tim was yelling. He knew he should calm down. He knew that this wouldn't make anything about the situation any better. But he had never told anyone this before, and once he had started, the rest was out. He had no control over it.

"Tim, that's not true..." Dick said, his voice low and almost downtrodden.

"Oh yeah? Then why do I feel like it is? Why does it sit in my chest and pound away at my heart? Why should I care what they think? I ask myself that that every day but, you know, I've never found an answer. The only solution I can ever come up with is that I shouldn't be here! I'm holding you all back. I'm weak and worthless and stupid. What other choice is there?" Tim was crying harder than he had been. Dick was crying with him and trying to reach out once again.

"Timmy, you have to believe me. They don't think that. We all love you. I promise you, we do. This family will fall apart without you." Dick choked out, his breathing getting a bit out of hand.

Tim scoffed at him. "Yeah right. We all know you're the golden boy with the unending love in his heart for everything that breathes, but everyone else?" Tim paused. "I...I just wanted to know they cared... But I was wrong. They don't. And they never will."

Before Tim could pull away, Dick was latching onto him, wrapping his arms around Tim as tightly as he could. He sobbed into Tim's hair, one hand petting the soft black locks.

"You're wrong. You're so wrong, babybird. I love you. Jason loves you. Damian loves you. Conner and Wally and Roy love you. We all love you. Bruce loves you, for Christ's sake!" Dick spoke in a rush of breath and tears, not even sure Tim could understand him. He held onto the smaller, 18-year-old as if someone would take him, as if he was already gone. "I don't know what we would do without you, Timmy. You're smart and intuitive. You're a better detective than any of us are. Hell, you're probably a better person, too. Tim, we need you here with us. You make this dark little world we live in so much brighter with your fashion sense and your makeup tips and how you're not afraid to be yourself..."

"Please, babybird. Let me do something to help."

*

Tim lay in the med area of the cave, gauze wrapped around his arms and an IV hooked up to his wrist. He was out cold.

Blood loss was the main reason. The rest of it was stress and a weak painkiller. Dick was looking into getting his younger brother some better anti-depressants as well.

But at least his first priority was taken care of: stabilizing Tim. Priority two was in the works now: intervention with Jason and Damian.

"What. The. Fuck, you two!" Dick all but roared as he marched into the dining room. He was honestly surprised he had gotten Tim downstairs without anyone noticing or hearing the yelling from the bedroom. 

The rest of the family in the room was a little taken aback. Bruce looked on at Dick with surprise written all across his face. Damian and Jason noticeably winced as Steph and Cass shared a look.

"Dick, there's five of us in here. Care you elaborate?" Cass said. Dick chose to ignore her in favor of glaring at his brothers.

"Do you even have the faintest idea what you have done?!" Dick demanded of them. Neither looked at him. By now, Bruce, Cass, and Steph were also looking at Jason and Damian with confused expressiona on their faces. Alfred had come in as well, standing just behind Dick.

"Dick, what did they do?"

"Why don't you march yourselves downstairs and see what you did. How does that sound?" Dick said. Damian and Jason shook their heads (more than a little fast).

"So you do know?" Dick demanded.

"Grayson, we-" Damian began, not even looking at the oldest.

"Tim almost died! I found him in his room with blood all over him from where he had cut himself and a gun laying next to him on the floor! Your gun, I might add, Jason!" Dick yelled. He wasn't in the mood for any of Damian's excuses or snarky comebacks.

"..."

"Nothing to say? After all those times where you couldn't keep your mouths shut, couldn't say anything positive or even remotely nice to Tim, now you have nothing? Are you fucking with me right now?!"

The other four, to say the least, was a little startled and scared by Dick's sudden outburst. Never before had any of them seen him look as mad as he did now. There were still tears on his face, more welling up in his eyes, and a scowl to rival Bruce's set in stone in his expression.

"Say something!" Dick demanded of the two. That was it. That broke Damian.

Suddenly, the youngest Robin was bawling, hunched forward in his chair. His hands covered his face as tears flowed freely, freer than they had in years, probably. Damian let out sobs and hiccups, his shoulders shaking, his breath coming in ragged gasps between violent outbursts.

Jason clasped his hands together tightly in his lap, teeth biting at his lower lip to the point it might bleed, tears falling down his cheeks.

This shocked Dick more than a little. (The rest of the family jumped, looking terrified the second Damian had let out his first wail.) He wasn't quite sure what to do. He had wanted to show them what they'd done, get them to understand what role they had played in Tim's near suicide. But Dick had not planned on this.

"Damian?" Dick said, moving closer to the youngest.

"I am sorry! I am sorry, Dick! I-I did not m-mean t-to! I do not hate him! You were right! Y-you are a-always r-right." Damian all but threw himself from his chair at Dick, wrapping his small arms around the man. His hold was tight, and Dick wasn't sure the 12-year-old would ever let go.

"Dick...we went upstairs to see what was taking so long and..."Jason kept his head bowed, refusing to look up. "We saw... We heard what you said..."

"Master Dick, what happened to Master Timothy?" Alfred spoke up now. Dick was surprised he hadn't before when he had first started going off.

"We all know Tim struggles with depression. He always has. And it makes him question his self worth in about a thousand different ways." Dick started. "Alfred, if you hadn't sent me up to Tim's room, he would have shot himself."

"Oh no..." Alfred mumbled, his tone tight with worry.

"Where is he now?" Bruce questioned.

"Down in the cave. I gave him some painkillers and bandaged his arms. He's sleeping." Before he could even finish speaking, Damian was letting go and tearing out of the room like he had the Joker on his heels.

"Damian!" Steph shouted after the pre-teen. 

Dick shook his head. "No, let him go."

There was silence for a moment before anyone said anything.

"Dick, I really didn't mean for this to happen. I know you're mad, and I know that no matter what we do now, we can't take back what we said...but I'm sorry..." Jason said, only briefly glancing at Dick. He wrung his hands in his lap, occasionally reaching up to wipe at his eyes.

Dick wasn't sure what to say from here. He had expected Jason and Damian to just brush this off like it meant nothing. He expected Damian to make some comment about how it was too bad that Tim had failed. Jason was supposed to say something rude and disrespectful about his 'replacement'.

What Dick got were two brothers who couldn't feel more sorry for the role they played in this if they tried. And Dick was proud of that. But Jason was right. It didn't change what had happened.

"Jason, Just be there for him, okay. He doesn't understand that you care about him. Show Tim that you love him." Dick said, squatting beside Jason's chair.

Jason shook his head, taking in a shaky breath. "It's not that simple. He will never trust us...he won't believe us..."

Dick smiled sadly at the young man before him. "Not right away, no. But eventually, he will."

Jason looked at Dick. His grey eyes were just as red-rimmed as Dick's, a few little tears blurring his vision. There was skepticism in those eyes, Dick knew. Knew it from all the times Damian had ever looked at him like that on patrol.

"Trust me." Dick stood up, reaching for one of Jason's hands and pulling him up as well. "How about you go wait for Tim to wake up with Damian. Come get me when he does. I need to take care of some things."

Jason nodded and left the room slowly, his hands shoved in his jeans pockets.

"We'll go too." Stephanie offered, standing up.

"No," Dick waved her off. "Let's not overwhelm Tim. I don't know when he'll wake up, but when he does, he won't need a bunch of people there. Just a couple."

"Should we do something, though?" Cass asked.

"I need to go clean up in Tim's room. Then the Titans should probably be given a briefing. Tim will be off for a while." Dick explained.

"We'll help with that. I'll handle the Titans for a while until you get down to the cave." Bruce said, pushing his chair back and heading out of the room. He had been strangely quiet during the whole exchange, though Dick figured that was for the best. Bruce sometimes made matters like this worse without meaning to.

*

Tim knew he wasn't in his bed. It didn't feel soft enough. Actually, this didn't feel soft at all. It was hard and cold, and the room around him smelled like disinfectant.

When Tim lifted his arm, he felt a cord or something attached to him, moving around with his own movements. He opened his eyes, found an IV there, leading under white bandages along his forearms.

A quick look at his surroundings said he was in the cave, laying on the medical table. Sitting in chairs on either side of him were Jason and Damian. The youngest's head was rested on his arms, folded on the table. He was asleep just an inch from Tim's bicep. Jason, on the other hand, was leaning back in his chair, his head tipped forward, also seeming to be out.

Or maybe not.

As Tim sat up, noticing his sweater was gone, his head began swimming. He pressed the heel of his left hand into his eye, attempting to steady himself and relieve the pressure he felt building in his skull. The rusting of the thin sheet covering Tim's lower half must have alerted Jason, as the older of the three perked up and looked towards Tim.

"Timmy, you're awake." Jason whispered. His eyes flicked to Damian, then back to Tim.

Tim said nothing. Why were they down here?

"Tim, I'm sorry. I should have said that a long time ago. I know that now. And I love you. I do, really." Jason said, struggling to keep his voice level and his eyes locked with Tim's. He thought it had been hard to admit this to Dick, but it was different actually saying it to Tim. It felt nice, but it also made him feel guilty.

"Dick told you to say that, right?" Tim's tone was bitter, and it cut Jason down to the bone. He had had no delusions that Tim would believe him right off the bat, but he had hoped... Hoped that Tim had a little part in him that would jump on his words and never let go.

What he didn't know was that Tim really did have that part in him. That little part was battered and abused and scared to allow itself into the open.

"No. Tim, I swear to you. It's the truth." Jason said earnestly.

Tim scoffed at him. Lies were almost worse than Jason openly hating him. Hopefully Damian wouldn't try this shit too...

"Timmy, babybird, I know that I've been horrible to you. And I know that treatment was misplaced. I was mad at Bruce, and I took it out on you." Tim was watching with at least a little sincerity in his eyes now. Jason tried hard not to cling to it too much.

"Tim, I'm sorry. Nothing I do will ever make up for this, I know that. But please, please let me try. I love you, babygirl." Jason was pleading now and he didn't even regre lying it, knew he never would.

"Jason...I don't...I don't know..." Tim mumbled, eyes glancing down at the floor. The cold was slowly seeping into his skin, his fingers slightly blue.

"Please, Tim."

Tim was not about to get hurt again. He would not let it happen. But he never had been able to deny Jason anything...and Tim knew it would be his downfall.

Slowly, Tim nodded. 

Jason smiled a little. "Can I hug you?" Tim bit at his lip before nodding again. He hoped he wouldn't regret this...

And he didn't. Jason was leaning forward, tucking Tim gently into his arms against his chest, holding tightly. Sure Jason had hugged Tim before. But those had been short, one-armed, begrudging, and cold. This was lasting significantly longer. It was willing and warm and...loving. And apologetic.

"I hope you know that this exact same conversation will be repeated when Damian wakes up." Jason whispered into Tim's hair.

Tim let out a breathy little laugh, raising his arms a little and returning Jason's hug.

"I may be able to live with that..."

It was Jason's turn to laugh a little.

And maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Again, sorry for any and all incorrect portrayals of any of the themes in here. I have not experienced these to this degree, not have I written them a ton. If you could help me out, that would be great.


End file.
